


No Lullabies

by cloudyworld



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 11:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudyworld/pseuds/cloudyworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian is not drunk, just sad. Really, really sad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Lullabies

Finally, finally he could sleep. They'd get done playing around 10:30, then they'd drink, then they might leave to go to their respective bunks, but Brendon never fell asleep quickly. Even after he checked twitter and texted Sarah, he'd find himself still wide awake, his mind still going, his legs restless. Sleep was a fickle bitch.    
  
But now, at last, he could shut his eyes, taking in a few deep breaths, wondering what kind of crazy dreams he was going to have now.    
  
The bus was silent, except for the soft hum of the engine. They had too far to travel in one day, so they had gotten an early start once the drinking was over. The bus rocked from side to side as they switched lanes, but it was gentle, making him all the more sleepy.    
  
He felt something closer shake his bunk, though, causing him to open his eyes just as the curtain was being pulled back, and a body wiggled its way into the tight space, throwing up the blanket and crawling beneath it. Instinctively, Brendon pressed himself into the wall, holding his arms out for the other person. He didn't need there to be light to know who it was.    
  
Soft curls neatly tucked under his chin, Brendon chuckled to himself, earning a snort from the smaller man now curled up in his arms.    
  
"You didn't even check to see if I was awake."    
  
"I knew you were," Ian replied, sounding embarrassed.    
  
"And if I had been asleep?"    
  
"I knew you weren't," he mumbled, shifting his position, tangling their legs together. "It doesn't matter." Brendon couldn't help the small smile on his face. He was glad Ian couldn't see it. They lay in silence, the singer focusing on Ian's quicker breathing, his stomach pressing against his own as it rose. It wasn't long before Ian's once loud heart rate finally matched Brendon's.    
  
"So you can't sleep?"    
  
"I feel like shit."    
  
"If you throw up on me in here, I swear to god," Brendon began, but Ian swatted him on the shoulder.   
  
"Not like that!" He squawked, quickly lowering his voice. "Emotionally."    
  
"Alcohol can do that to you, you know." At Brendon's response, Ian frowned, and though the other man couldn't see it, he could definitely feel it against his collarbone.    
  
"I'm not drunk. Just sad."    
  
Brendon hummed, lifting an arm to run a hand through Ian's hair.    
  
"Does this make it better?" he asked, twirling a short curl around one of his fingers. Ian sighed, tilting his head, pressing up into Brendon's hand.    
  
"Makes me forget about it. That's enough for right now."    
  
"You don't want to talk about it?" Brendon thought he'd ask, since Ian was here already and obviously distressed, soft tremors easily felt beneath his skin, where Brendon's other hand rested on his back. He doubted he was going to get much sleep, anyway. Might as well. Ian was quiet for a minute, one hand twisting in the fabric of Brendon's shirt, knuckles brushing his hip.   
  
"Maybe tomorrow," he decided, squeezing his eyes shut, long eyelashes feather light touches on Brendon's neck. "I can tell you, just. Not right now."    
  
"Okay, tomorrow," Brendon agreed, hand moving up and down his back, feeling the tiny bumps of his spine through the cotton. He wasn't going to push the issue, not if Ian didn't want to. It was going to bother the singer until he found out, definitely, but he'd wait until Ian was ready.    
  
"Thank you," Ian whispered, voice cracking. The shaking got worse, Brendon's arms moving to wrap tight around Ian's tiny frame while Ian's own hands struggled to cling to the other, his fingers slipping on the taller man's clothes. Brendon could feel his heart breaking.    
  
"You'll be fine, it's going to be okay. I'm here," Brendon whispered, barely audible over Ian's short sobs and gasps. He had really hoped the guitarist wasn't going to cry, but. This only made whatever it was that was eating away at him like this so, so much worse. They had been friends for awhile, but Brendon hadn't seen Ian cry in a long time. Not like this, weak and desperately clinging to him like he was air. Like he needed him, or he was going to die.    
  
Brendon wondered if this was what Spencer felt like a couple years back.    
  
"I'm sorry," he whimpered, lifting one trembling hand to wipe at his eyes, rubbing them until they were red.    
  
"Don't be sorry, buddy. It's fine. You're fine. I've got you," Brendon repeated a few times over, tilting his chin down to press kisses into his curls. "Whatever it is, we're going to fix it. We'll make it alright." It wasn't Brendon's style to cancel gigs, but fuck, if this was something this bad, he'd do it. Anything for Ian to stop shivering and crying into his chest. Whatever needed to be done, he was going to do it.    
  
The bus was silent again, except for Ian's muffled sobs, his face pressed into Brendon's neck. They were growing quieter, though, and fewer.    
  
"You can stay up here tonight," he offered, pulling the blanket up over top of them, not waiting for Ian's response.    
  
His response was a laugh, short and rough.    
  
"Okay, I'd like that."    
  
Brendon smiled, kissing the side of Ian's head as he settled back into the pillow, already used to Ian's body, short legs and lean arms, on top of him. He wasn't much like Sarah at all, but it wasn't a bad thing. Brendon liked being close to those he loved. All of them.    
  
"Goodnight," he murmured, running a hand through Ian's hair one last time as he shut his eyes. The only sounds left were the bus's muted hum, and Ian's soft snores against his skin.    
  
Finally, sleep came quickly. 


End file.
